


Under the Tuscan Sun

by GingerItt



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerItt/pseuds/GingerItt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Under the Tuscan Sun.  After Kurt’s longtime partner cheats on him, Kurt runs off to Italy to escape his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the first time in his life, Kurt Hummel was thankful for having an up-to-date passport. He couldn’t remember a time where he didn’t have one, his dad’s sister lived in Canada and they went to visit her at least once a year so having a passport was a necessity. He loved his aunt but having a passport was something he never really thought about until a day before they were supposed to leave and his dad would have to tear the house apart to find them.

Now, at the age of twenty-five, he was in charge of his passport and its location. He thumbed through the keys on a spare key ring and located the one for his fire-proof box under his bed. Laying on his belly, he pulled the box out and unlocked it. Shuffling through an extra copy of his (their) lease, the emergency credit card his dad made him keep, a copy of his birth certificate, and his social security card, he finally found the small blue booklet at the bottom of the box. He also pocketed the credit card and social security card. 

He could hear the movers finishing up in the living room. He sat on against the wall facing the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it. His suitcase was resting on the bench at its foot, open but full of his essential items. Tears began to well as he remembered the sight of him in their bed with--  
“Sir, we’re all done in the living room. Anything from this room need to go?” A short, burly man stuck his head in. He glanced around, obviously surveying the size of the furniture pieces.

“No,” Kurt’s voice whispered. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to deal with the situation. “No, I packed anything from here into the boxes for the living room. It was just a few pictures.” He stood up, kicking the fire box. He picked it, locked it shut and handed it to the moving man. “Just... Just this.”  
“Sure thing. We’ll be outta your hair in a few minutes. And we’re storing all your stuff, right?”

Kurt nodded, hands sliding into his pockets and eyes focusing on his shoes. “Yes, that’s right. Do I need to meet you at the storage unit?”

“Nah, we’ll load it in. You already signed the contract so the manager will call you when it’s all in there.” 

Kurt swallowed again, nodding silently. The man seemed to realize that he needed a moment alone and left him. He pulled his wallet out, slid the cards into a compartment and put it back in his pocket. Kurt turned to face the suitcase. He closed the lid and slowly zipped it shut. Carrying it into the living room, he looked around the home they once shared. The memories came flooding back. Every smile. Every fight. All the parties. And the other night.

He picked up his jacket and messenger bag from the couch and put them on. After slipping his passport into the front pocket of his bag, he pulled up the handle of his suitcase and rolled it out the door and into the next chapter of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was mentally kicking himself for using the internet to book a bus tour of Italy. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but somehow, he had accidentally booked himself a seat on bus full of conservative Catholics that were making an effort to be polite towards him but clearly wished he was not with them. The feeling was mutual.

He had thought Italy would be museums and historical sights by day and fantastic dinners and wine by night. Instead, days were spent going from one site of some random saint’s martyrdom to another and the nights were spent on the cramped bus trying to ignore the very loud recitation of the New Testament by the other passengers.

Currently, it was mid-afternoon and they were traipsing around a small town in Tuscany called Montelunato. Kurt could have easily blended in with the locals but for his ivory skin. The rest of the tour group stuck out like a sore thumb in their acid wash jeans and baseball caps. Their guide, a college-aged young American woman named Marina, was holding a giant yellow umbrella with pink and green polka dots over her head and leading them to their next stop of the tour. At the Vatican City, it had been helpful. Here, it was unnecessary and embarrassing. Marina, who was very sweet if a bit naive, appeared to be completely unaware that the locals were staring at her as she loudly described the gruesome death of some young maiden who would rather die than marry a pagan. Kurt was beginning to notice a theme. The male saints usually did something brave to become saints. The women either gave birth to a male saint or refused to sleep with some important Roman politician.

Marina closed her umbrella and used its point to highlight important features of a statue in the town square. Kurt was doing his best to give Marina his attention but he was more interested in the town around him. There was a small cafe and a church across the way with a school attached to it. The church bells rang out and children burst from the school soon after. Several of them rushed to a nearby gelato shop and a group of boys began kicking a ball back and forth. Marina was going on and on about the symbolism of the globe in the subject of the statue’s hand, ignoring the noise of the children behind her.

Kurt watched the boys play together contentedly. He was jealous of them. They were so young and carefree. At least, they seemed to be. As he watched them, a man emerged from the school and was greeted with cheers from the boys. He had dark curls that were neatly gelled in place with a bright, warm smile. He was dressed in dark grey slacks, a light blue short-sleeved shirt and a light grey waistcoat with a bright blue bowtie.

The ball was immediately passed to the man, and he easily passed it to another boy in the group, briefcase still in hand. The ball passed back and forth a few times before he ducked out of the group with a small wave and headed up a winding street. The boys shouted at his back and he turned to face them, yelling back to them. They all erupted in laughter and the man continued his way up the street.

Kurt was jostled out of his stupor by Marina tugging on his sleeve. The group was a little ways off, snapping pictures and chattering.

“Kurt, we have to head back to the bus now. We’ll be staying in Pisa tonight and attending service in the morning.” She smiled up at him earnestly. She clearly had no idea how uncomfortable this whole trip was for him.  
“Marina, I think I’m going to just stay here for the last few days of the tour. I have three days until my plane leaves from Florence and I’d like to enjoy them.” He shifted his bag on his shoulder, waiting for Marina to react.

“Did I do something wrong? I know Cabo San Luca didn’t go too well and Turin could have been better but--” Her wide brown eyes were panicked.

“No, no, no, sweetie, nothing like that.” He held her by the shoulders, looking her in the eye. “I just... I’m not feeling very welcome with the rest of the tour. You are wonderful and I’d be happy to tell your supervisor how great you’ve been but I just need some peace and quiet.” 

Marina nodded. “Okay, well. Let’s go back to the bus so you can get your things.” She turned away from him and Kurt could have sworn he heard her sniffling.

They walked in silence back to the bus and Kurt got his suitcase from his overhead compartment before the rest of the tour group boarded. Back on the street, the rest of the group boarded wordlessly and Marina pulled him into a hug before she hopped on. The bus sped off and left Kurt. 

With a sigh, Kurt carried his suitcase back to the main square to the cafe. He figured that would be the best place to start.


	3. Chapter 3

He ate a quiet dinner by himself in the cafe. His Italian was nonexistent and his waiter spoke very little English but they both knew enough French for Kurt to get directions to a nearby hotel. After his third glass of wine, he settled his tab and headed towards the hotel. It wasn’t too late, only eight or nine but he was exhausted from sleeping on a bus for the last five nights. The clerk at the desk, an elderly man with thick-rimmed glasses, gave him a decent rate for the next three nights and showed him to his room.

It was basic but comfortable. A bed with a simple light green coverlet took up most of the space in the small room. There was a small dresser, a night stand and a narrow desk but the view out the window made up for the amenities the room lacked. The large square window was pointed towards the north with a tree covered hill beyond the town. The town was glowing beneath the hill and the stars-- God, the stars! Even back in Lima, Kurt had never seen stars like that.

It wasn’t until Kurt was safely locked in his room and alone that he let himself think about what had happened that day. It had only been a week but the wounds felt raw as he replayed the scene in his mind.

Coming home. Hanging his keys up. Putting his jacket in the hall closet. Hearing the mattress creak from the bedroom. Opening the door to see the person he loved the most inside the person he hated more than anything. Freezing as they fucked each other in front of him. His voice breaking as he said the last words he ever intended to say to him.

He had gone to Rachel and Quinn’s that night. They had been sweet and comforting but he was practically catatonic. They were too blissfully happy for him, what with Quinn’s successful insemination. A split decision the next day led to him renting a storage unit and packing up his belongings after booking a roundtrip ticket to Italy and an eight day bus tour of ‘Important Historical and Cultural Sites’.

Now he sat on a hard mattress, staring out the window at the night sky, and the tears he knew he needed to cry wouldn’t come. Maybe he was still in shock, he didn’t know. But he purposely thought about the wedding plans they had made, the children’s names they had argued about, which suburb they would move to when their children started school, the phone call to his dad and nothing.

‘Amelia Elizabeth. Carter Burt. Cecilia Rose. Michael James,’ he thought to himself. Even picturing their nonexistent children didn’t do it. He stood up and changed into a pair of pajama pants and a tank top to sleep in. He laid back on the mattress, gazing out at the stars, and wondered when it wouldn’t hurt anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Kurt woke early and dressed simply. It was already April and it was still cool in the mornings but yesterday afternoon had been perfectly pleasant. He pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a white long sleeved shirt before choosing his favorite vest and a deep purple cravat. He tugged his messenger bag over his head and headed downstairs. The old man from the night before was replaced with a middle aged woman with dark hair and a big smile. 

She greeted him warmly, introduced herself as Bianca and welcomed him to her family’s hotel. Her father, the man from the night before, had told her that an American had rented a room late last night. She spoke very good English and gave Kurt a few ideas of places in the town to visit during his next few days as she bustled around the lobby, brewing coffee in a large pot and setting out newspapers and magazines. Bianca invited him to join her family for dinner than night, as Kurt was the only guest at the time. He thanked her and said he would, but fully intending on returning to his room with a bottle of wine and his sorrow come dinnertime.

“You must join us! It is just my father, my self and my sons, and Papa cooks so much for the four of us.” She shoved a cup of black coffee into his hands and he took a sip, wincing at how strong it was.

“Well, I guess I can come. I mean, it’s not like I have other plans or know anyone else is Montelunato.” Kurt took another tiny sip of the coffee, trying not to seem rude. “Should I bring anything? I’d like to contribute something.”

“Oh, no! That’s not necessary. You are our guest, Kurt!” She smiled broadly and Kurt got the feeling that their hotel didn’t have a lot of guests. He finally relented and head outside into the bright morning light. 

The people of the town were heading to work and getting their children ready for the day. Kurt took his camera out of his bag and took a few pictures of the buildings. Just because he was hiding on practically the other side of the world didn’t mean he had to forget his job.

He had planned to study musical theatre in college but a stroke of luck had found him working in the offices of Vogue.com. Seven years later, he had risen from lowly intern to assistant editor of the website still under his friend and mentor, Isabelle Wright. She had been incredibly understanding when Kurt called her and told her he would be gone for the next week and a half and why. She even told him to put everything on the company credit card provided he took his camera with him and pieced together a new section of the website from his trip. 

Kurt wandered back to the town square, or piazza as Bianca had called it, and snapped a picture of the stature Marina had been describing the day before. He knelt on the ledge at it’s base and took a picture of the church steeple from a low angle. It was Wednesday and hundreds of children waiting for the school doors to open were running amok around him. He snapped a few shots at a low shudder speed of the children just to see what would happen. 

The doors of the school opened and several adults, teachers presumably, came out and shouted over the children. One of them was the man from the day before. He and the other adults were raising their hands over their hands, orchestrating the children into groups before heading in. Kurt hurriedly took a photo of the man with his arms over his head.

Today the man wore dark red slacks and a black shirt with another bowtie but Kurt couldn’t tell what color it was. He looked through the viewfinder of his camera and zoomed in on the man. Stripes, he thought. It’s striped. His hair wasn’t gelled today, his curls laying loosely against his forehead. The final group, the one the man was in charge of, also the oldest children, headed inside and Kurt slid his camera into his bag.

He didn’t know why he was so intrigued by this man. He hadn’t spoken a word to him and had only seen him for a few minutes total. But there was something about him that drew him to him. Kurt swallowed and his stomach growled in hunger. Kurt stuffed his camera back in his bag and went off in search of a bakery for his breakfast. Locating one and with a pastry in hand, Kurt spent the day walking through the main parts of town. Around four he headed back to the hotel and napped for a little while before Pietro, Bianca’s father, knocked on his door to invite him to dinner. 

Kurt pulled his vest back on and went down the stairs with Pietro. He was led into the section of the building where the family lived. Pietro spoke to him in a mix of English and Italian, ushering him into the large kitchen. 

“Sit, sit!” Pietro insisted, pointing to a chair at the already set table. Kurt poured himself and his host a glass of wine. He offered it to Pietro, which he accepted, and sat in the chair. Pietro stirred at various pots on the stovetop, chattering away. Kurt nodded along and said ‘Yes’ when it felt appropriate until Bianca joined them. He stood to greet her and she pulled him into a hug, surprising him. A tall man, a few years older than Kurt was behind her and he shook Kurt’s hand. He was handsome, so handsome that Kurt got a little flustered, and spoke English with a light British accent.

“Kurt, this is my oldest son, Cooper. He is home for vacation from America,” Bianca told him. “I hope he meets a nice girl while he’s home and decides to stay.”

“Mamma--” Cooper started.

“Mamma, what? I miss you, Cooper. You don’t visit your mama enough.” She tousled Cooper’s hair as he sat across from Kurt. 

Cooper shook his head and smirked at Kurt. “Mothers are all the same, no?”

Kurt nodded in a agreement, sipping from his wine glass, silently wishing his mother was alive to guilt trip him. He loved Carole, his stepmother, but she would never replace his mother, no matter how many years had passed.

“Mamma! Nonno! Sono a casa!” a voice called out. Kurt turned and saw another man enter the kitchen, set his bag down and kiss Bianca and Pietro on the cheek and pull Cooper into a good natured hug. It was the man from the school.


	5. Chapter 5

Bianca wrapped her arm around him, directing him to face Kurt. He had Bianca’s wide smile and friendly eyes. He studied Kurt’s face, his hazel eyes searching his own.

“Kurt, this is my younger son, Blaine. Blaine, this is our guest, Kurt, from America.” Blaine smiled again and held out his hand to Kurt.

“Nice to meet you,” Blaine said. Like his brother, Blaine had a soft British accent. Kurt took his hand in his, taking a deep breath as their skin touched.

“You too.” They shook hands and Cooper poured himself, Bianca and Blaine each a glass of wine. Kurt was suddenly aware that he was still holding Blaine’s hand when he awkwardly reached his free hand over his arm to accept the glass from Cooper. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

“It’s all right, Kurt.” He chuckled as Kurt finally released his hand, taking a long drink of wine. Kurt sat quickly back in his seat and downed what was left of his drink. Cooper laughed at him, offering the bottle of wine. Kurt held his glass out and Cooper emptied what was left into it. “What brings you to Montelunato?”

“I signed up for a bus tour of Italy and jumped ship yesterday. My plane doesn’t leave until the day after tomorrow and the bus was getting a little uncomfortable for me. Montelunato seemed like a good place to unwind for a few days,” Kurt answered, his voice tinged with sadness. He was avoiding the real reason he was there but he didn’t want to get into that with a family of strangers. 

Dinner was risotto dotted with mushrooms and sweet peas that Bianca said Pietro grew in their garden out back and the most delicious lamb that Kurt had ever tasted. They sat around the table even after the meal was over, laughing and drinking together and Kurt felt at ease for the first time in over a week. After what he guessed was his fifth glass of wine, he yawned and stretched. Even though he had napped that afternoon, the long day of walking through the winding cobblestoned streets had worn him out. He rose and began to clear his plate and Pietro’s, intending to say thanks by washing the the dishes before he went to bed.

“No, no, Kurt! You are our guest!” Blaine stopped him, gripping his hand as Kurt reached for Pietro’s plate. “We’ll never have any business if the word gets out that we make our customers earn their keep!”

Cooper laughed and swatted Kurt’s and Blaine’s hands away. “It’s my turn to do the dishes anyway. Go, relax. It’s your vacation, Kurt,” Cooper reminded him, taking Kurt’s plate from in front of him. Kurt sighed defeatedly and bid them all good night before returning to his room and collapsing on his bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	6. Chapter 6

Bianca had told Kurt about an easy path that led up to the top of the hill that overlooked Montelunato and the next morning, in spite of his hangover, Kurt made the decision to go to its peak. Grateful that he had packed a pair of practical walking shoes, he dressed casually in a pair of old jeans and a green henley with long sleeves, grabbed his bag and camera and headed towards the hill. He stopped in a small store near the outskirts of town and bought a bottle of water before continuing on his way.

The path was easy enough to find and the hike up the hill, though steep, was beautiful. It took almost three hours but Kurt finally reached the top and looked out over the valley and town.

It was truly breathtaking. It had rained during the night and with the late morning sun, the trees seemed to glisten. Kurt could see a vineyard on the other side of town and what appeared to be an olive grove not far from it. His camera at the ready, he snapped a few shots of the valley. There was a large boulder near the edge and he gingerly climbed on top of it to rest and take some more photos. He zoomed in on the steeple of the church before taking another shot of it. He rested his camera in his lap and stared out into the valley.

It happened so suddenly Kurt wasn’t prepared for it. The bells of the church struck eleven o’clock and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. He wiped the tear away with the back of his hand, begging himself not to cry here, but to wait until he was in the privacy of his hotel room. It didn’t work.

An image of them flashed in his mind and a sob escaped his throat. His body shook uncontrollably, as he finally allowed himself to release his grief. All the promises they made were nothing now. Kurt had believed everything he had said to him. It hurt. He hadn’t been enough for him. He needed... him. Or he wanted him. Kurt could barely remember the last time they had made love and he had no idea the last time they were actually happy. He thought they were. But he was obviously wrong. 

He tugged on the necklace around his neck from under his shirt and stared at the ring looped through it. It was a wide gold band with a string diamonds the entire way around it with square cut emerald topping it off. It was not Kurt’s taste at all. But he had worn it with pride. Because he was going to be someone’s husband and they were in love. He removed the chain from his neck and unhook its clasp. The ring slid into his palm and he considered its weight.

Carefully rising to his feet, Kurt surveyed the valley below, tears still coming from his eyes. He put the chain in his jean pocket, his other hand squeezing the ring. With a deep breath, he wound his arm up and chucked the ring towards the valley below.

He stood there for a little while long, watching a flock of birds dart through the air. He picked up his bag and camera, hopped down from the boulder and headed back to town. He wiped his face with his sleeve, praying he didn’t look as bad as he was sure he did. However, Kurt felt better than he had in over a week. Maybe he could now start over with out that weight around his neck.

The journey down the hill went faster than the climb. Kurt made his way to the cafe in the piazza taking a narrow winding streets rather than the main ones he was more familiar with. He quickly rounded a corner and walked into a bunch of balloons.

Flustered, Kurt extracted himself from the large bundle of balloons. He stepped back and saw the the balloons were looped on a hook on a stucco wall surrounding a narrow house. A man came rushing from the gate towards him.

“Mi scusi, signore! Mi dispiace per i palloncini, non c'è altro posto per me per legarli.” He was appeared to be in his late thirties and was dressed in a simple black suit and tie.

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t speak Italian,” Kurt replied and started to walk away.

“Oh, American? Here visiting family, perhaps?” the man asked. Kurt stopped and turned back to him.

“No, just in town for a few days. I’m exploring.” He shrugged, hoping the man would lose interest in him.

The man clapped his hands. “You must see this house, it is one of the oldest in Montelunato and we are having a--open door today.”

Kurt looked over the man’s shoulder through the open gate. He was going to say no but then he saw the chipped turquoise pain on the front door. 

“Can I take a few photos?” he asked, taking his camera out.

“Of course! I will give you a tour!” He ushered Kurt through the gate and into the overgrown garden.

The house was the same yellowed stucco as the wall surrounding it but the shudders were a deep red, contrasting with the door. It was three stories tall with a red tiled roof. He took a few pictures of the garden and the exterior of the house before the door commanded his attention. He took several photos of it, the ornate doorknob and hinges, and the tiny grate at eye level.

“Can we--” Kurt touched the doorknob and turned it. As the door opened, Kurt gasped at the beauty before him.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt was not an impulsive person. Every aspect of his life was planned out and even when his plans didn’t turn out the way he had intended, he somehow managed to land on his feet and it usually turned out for the better. Not going to college had been a blessing in disguise, moving in with Rachel had been wonderful, Finn being his stepbrother and not his boyfriend was what he truly needed in his teenaged years. The words ‘How much?’ left his lips before he could stop them and before he knew it, he was signing papers and contacting his bank back in New York.

Giancarlo, the man Kurt had met, was the real estate agent for the property and he proved to be very helpful in navigating certain hoops Kurt had to jump through as an American. He also called Bianca and had her read over the paperwork, just to make sure that nothing seemed unreasonable. 

Bianca had been overjoyed when Kurt told her that he was going to buy the house. In only two days she had taken a shine to him and was more than happy to look over the deed. She had mentioned over dinner that she had been a barrister is England for a few years so he figured she would be more than able to negotiate a fair contract with Giancarlo.

Several hours and multiple phones calls to Kurt’s bank later, he had signed all the paperwork, gotten the previous owners to agree to pay for a new roof, an exterminator and install a new water heater, and been approved from a mortgage. He had money, more than he knew what to do with. When his mother died, his dad had put all of the money they were given from the insurance company into a account in Kurt’s name and gave it to him on his twenty-first birthday. Kurt never knew what to do with it. He was making more than enough at Vogue.com so he just let it sit in his savings account collecting interest until he knew what he wanted to do with it.

The second he walked through the door of the house, he knew. It needed work. There were water stains on most of the ceilings and Giancarlo told him that because no one had actually lived in it for several years, the water heater was in disrepair and there was a bit of a pest problem. But then Giancarlo said that the name of the house was Villa Elisabetta Kurt was able to look past all that. He knew it was just a coincidence, but he couldn’t ignore that this house shared a name with his mother.

Bianca invited Giancarlo and his family to the hotel for dinner that night. They ate in the garden and both Giancarlo’s children were excited to see Blaine outside of school. It was easy to tell that Blaine was easily the most popular teacher at the school. The boy was one of Blaine’s current students and the little girl would be in his class in a few years but was clearly already enamored with him. Blaine spoke to them both animatedly in rapid Italian and Kurt couldn’t help but smile as Blaine gave Giancarlo’s daughter Giulia a piggy back ride.

They hadn’t spoken much, Kurt had tried to strike up a conversation with Blaine but it always felt awkward. Cooper, however, was easy for him to talk to. He was a struggling actor based out of Los Angeles who was getting a few bit parts on cheesy sitcoms, always as a dopey guy with an accent. They liked the same shows, both were obsessed with a new fantasy show on HBO and they even discovered that they had a few mutual friends in L.A. where Kurt traveled a lot for work.

He went to be that night a bit tipsy but incredibly excited about what ever would happen next. He was supposed to leave tomorrow but now... Well, he had to call his dad and Carole, Isabelle, and Rachel and Quinn to let them know he wouldn’t be coming back and arrange for his things to be shipped. But for now, he felt more at ease than he had in a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

Kurt stayed at the hotel for another two weeks as all the necessary repairs were made before he moved in. Bianca had become a good friend during that time and Kurt ate at least one meal with her and her family, usually more after Cooper returned to the States.

His conversation with his dad hadn’t been the easiest, but Kurt understood. He had just used almost all the money his mother had left him to buy a house on a whim in a country where he didn’t speak the language. It would have been odd if Burt hadn’t been worried. 

“Well, bud, if that’s what you think you need to do, then that’s what you need to do. But when you do decide to come home, I’ll be waiting at the airport with open arms.” Kurt heard his dad’s voice hitch as he passed the phone to Carole. He made Carole promise to get his dad and Finn on a plane for Christmas, swearing she’d understand when she saw Montelunato and the house.

Isabelle was upset and frustrated with him but she was adamant about keeping him on the payroll. She was going to give him the freedom to create a new section of the website on any topic he wanted (pending Anna’s approval, of course). 

He also called Rachel and Quinn, with whom he was supposed to be staying with when he returned to New York. He hoped everything was okay but he was too busy throwing himself into the renovations to give it any second thought.

Bianca drove him to an IKEA in Florence the day before Kurt would be moving into his house. As they wandered around the superstore, Kurt occasionally testing a chair or a sofa, she answered his questions about town and all the gossip he needed to know to survive as a resident.

She had just finished telling him about a woman named Paola who had left her fiance at the altar only to run off with her maid of honor during the ceremony and the scandal it created.

“Can you imagine?” she asked. Kurt was moving from mattress to mattress, struggling to find one that didn’t feel like a rock. Kurt bit his lip, reminded of how Rachel ran out on Finn not once but twice for Quinn. He wondered if Bianca knew that it he was gay, he had told her that he had left New York because of a bad break-up but he hadn’t said that it was with a man. He blended in a little better in Italy than he did in America. Granted, Montelunato was smaller than Lima was, but no one gave him a second look for wearing pastels or pieces of clothing that were more fashionable than functional.

“Well, Bianca, there’s nothing wrong with being gay--” he started by Bianca cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, no, Kurt! I know, but this happened fifty years ago!” She laughed at the aghast look on his face. He had to admire how “You will want to meet Paola and her wife, Sofia, they are good friends of my father’s.”

“Oh... Oooh....” Kurt laid on a mattress that felt heavenly in comparison to all the others. “Write down the style number for this. I need this mattress in my life.” 

Bianca scribbled it on their sheet as Kurt begrudgingly sat up. “Kurt? You do know that Blaine is gay, right?” she asked offhandedly.

He froze as he gripped their cart. “Um, no, no, I didn’t.”

“I just want you to understand that you won’t have any problems from my family. Because Blaine is everything that a young man should be and that fact that he’s gay doesn’t define him. It’s just a part that makes him who he is.”

He nodded. They began walking to another department. They selected some cookware and dishes for Kurt’s kitchen before heading to the checkout. Bianca took over and did the talking for him, arranging for his larger purchases to be delivered the next day. They walked silently back to Bianca’s car and loaded his things into the tiny trunk. Bianca started the engine and as they pulled out of the lot she told him her story:

“I went to law school in England when I was about your age and met my sons’ father. John was--is a very traditional man and when I found out I was pregnant with Cooper, we were married right away. Blaine came not long after. And we were happy for a while. But...” Bianca sighed, tears welling in her eyes, “Blaine wasn’t a “normal” little boy. He liked to play football with his brother and friends but he was happier singing and playing the piano. There was also something... just different about him and his father and I both suspected what it meant. It didn’t matter to me, so long as he was happy. His father had no patience for it. John slowly went from being sharp whenever Blaine said or did something he didn’t like to physically punishing him for it. I came home from a business trip and John had locked Blaine in his room for the entire time I was gone without food.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to say the next part. “He had beaten him as well. I had to take him to hospital and lie to the doctors about what happened. He--” her voice broke, “He had a broken nose, four cracked ribs and a burst ear drum. He was thirteen. I made it clear to John that it could never happen again. I would leave and take both boys with me. Cooper did what he could to protect him but he was studying for his A-levels and John put him in extra tutoring. When Blaine was fourteen and Cooper was seventeen, we came to to Italy to visit my father for what was supposed to be a summer and never went back to England.”

Bianca wiped her tears away from her face. “I sued him for divorce and he signed the papers right away. We were done with him and he was clearly done with us.”

Kurt was speechless the whole ride back to Montelunato. Blaine seemed like a happy-go-lucky guy, Kurt had no idea that he had been through so much. Bianca didn’t say anything else and it was obvious that she wasn’t in the habit of telling that story often. As she carefully navigated the narrow alley behind Kurt’s house, Kurt finally whispered, “Why did you tell me this?”

She pulled into the carriage house that had been turned into a garage by the previous owners. “Because I have a feeling, Kurt Hummel, that you are always going to be a part of my family.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next day, Kurt’s IKEA purchases were delivered and he moved out of the hotel and into his house. He spent the next few weeks figuring out what else needed to be replaced. He took a lot of ‘before’ pictures as he had decided to blog the remodel for his dad and Carole. For Vogue.com, he decided to finally start focusing on his fashion design work. His sewing machine was on its way from New York, along with the rest of the contents of his storage unit.

He usually still had dinner with Bianca and her family but one evening in early May Kurt decided to dine alone. Kurt was sitting in the outdoor part of the cafe, sipping his wine and translating what he could of his menu when he saw Blaine come out of the school. It was pretty late for Blaine to be leaving work. Kurt watched him pass the statue in the center of the piazza, greeting a few people that passed with small wave and a smile. He neared the cafe and Kurt debated whether or not to say anything. Blaine preempted any decision he would have made by walking right up to him.

“Kurt! How are you this evening?” he asked, hands slipping casually into his pockets. His hair wasn’t gelled back like it normally was so it laid in small ringlets. He looked tired but his face was still friendly and smiling. “Why aren’t you eating with Mamma and Nonno?”

“Oh, I just wanted to give them some space this evening. Your family has done so much for me, the least I could do was stay out of their hair for an evening.”

The waiter came over and spoke to Blaine and it was clear to Kurt that he was being asked if he would be joining him. Blaine made a gesture that said ‘No’ and began backing away. 

“Please, join me if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Kurt motioned to the empty chair across from him. “I’ll buy,” he joked.

A big grin formed on Blaine’s face and he said something to the waiter who promptly left. “Well, in that case, why not!” He hoisted a leg over the rope that quartered off the restaurant from the square. “What wine are you drinking?” he asked, inspecting the bottle as he sat down. His eyebrows arched as he read the label. “Okay, you’re not allowed to pick your own wine anymore.”

“What?” Kurt asked. “What’s wrong with what I chose? It’s what I’ve been drinking since I came here.”

“It’s the house wine. The owner’s mother makes it in the back by the liter. It’s no better than grape juice spiked with vodka. In fact, that might be what it is,” he chuckled. He took Kurt’s menu from him and turned it to the wine list. The waiter returned with a plate of focaccia and a small bottle of olive oil. He set it on the table and poured some of the oil on to a little plate. As he ground some pepper over the oil, Blaine spoke to him again in Italian, waving his hand at the wine bottle. The waiter shrugged as he replied which clearly didn’t sit well with Blaine. He spoke sharply to the waiter, something that surprised Kurt greatly.

“Is everything alright, Blaine?” he asked, tentatively, as the waiter left again. 

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Blaine rubbed his face with both hands, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just be a long day. I had to finish report cards this afternoon and then I found out that my plans for my vacation next month have fallen through. And I’ve known that waiter for years and he is an ass.” 

“What happened to your vacation plans?”

Blaine sighed, breaking off a corner of the bread with his fingers and dragged it through the oil. “I was going to go backpacking through Germany, the Netherlands and Denmark with a friend but he has chosen to go to Australia instead. It’s frustrating because we were supposed to leave next week and I already paid for my train ticket to Munich.” 

Kurt followed his lead and tore a piece of the focaccia off and dipped it in the oil. “You could always travel by your self,” he suggested.

“I would have but...” his voice trailed off as the waiter returned with a new bottle of wine and took their orders. “It wasn’t just a friend, Kurt.”

“Oh,” he said, sniffing the new wine in his glass before taking a small sip. Blaine had been right. His original bottle was nothing in comparison to this.

“He wasn’t a boyfriend or anything, but we were-- um-- we had a physical relationship,” Blaine winced as the words left his mouth. “We were friends for a long time and--I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping my problems on you.”

“Blaine, it’s okay! I totally understand, I’m in a similar boat myself right now,” Kurt admitted.

“Really?” he asked, bringing his own glass to his lips. “Tell me your story after I tell you mine?”

Kurt bit his bottom lip, considering his offer for a moment. “Sure. Now, spill!”

Blaine smiled and took another gulp of wine. “Okay, well, Giorgio and I were friends at university and last year, we both went through a break up around the same time. His was much more sudden, but mine was pretty rough, too. He’s an engineer and he lives in Pisa. We... We just had sex. I know that sounds-- not so good, but I wasn’t ready for a real relationship yet and Giorgio had never been one for them in the first place. So we saw each other a few times a month, had a couple of nights together and that was it. But lately, I had been feeling more for him than just physical feelings.”

“You wanted a relationship from him,” Kurt guessed.

“Yes. And when he invited me to go traveling with him this summer, I thought he wanted the same thing.” Blaine gave him a sad smile as he continued, “But then he called me today to tell me that one of his other... friends... was paying for him to go to Australia for a month and that Germany was off. He wasn’t even apologetic about it, he hung up before I could even respond.” He sighed, setting down his glass as the waiter came with their meals. He scooped up some of his pasta on his fork, taking a large bite. “So, that the gist of my sob story. What’s yours?”

“I came home from work and walked in on my fiance getting fucked by the guy that made high school a living hell for me.” He stated it matter of factly, as if each word didn’t feel like a knife going through his heart. Blaine choked on his pasta and coughed it into his napkin. “Sorry, that was a little blunt.”

Blaine downed a glass of water, struggling to clear his throat. “Um, yeah.”

Kurt began to eat his dinner, watching Blaine put himself back together. “I’m kind of at the point where it seems like it happened in someone else’s life. It’s all disconnected and blurry and I have to remind myself that it was my fiance, it was our apartment, it was our bed and it was our life together that disappeared in a moment.” 

“I’m so sorry, Kurt.” Blaine’s voice was barely a whisper. “That really-- I had no idea. Mamma didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, I only told her that I was going through a break up. She doesn’t know the specifics.” He absentmindedly swirled his fettucini around his fork.

“Still, I am sorry. No one deserves to be cheated on.”

Kurt changed the topic to Blaine’s students and Blaine’s cheerful self returned in full as he regaled him with stories. It was clear that not only was Blaine a popular teacher, he was a damn good one. He had gotten the school to adopt a zero tolerance policy regarding bullying, no mean feat for a parish school, and coached in a girls’ football league in the summer and fall.

“Why the girls and not the boys?” Kurt asked, dragging the final morsel of the focaccia through what was left of the sauce from his pasta.

“I started the league. There are four boys’ leagues and none for the girls. They were always showing to practice and playing with the boys but they weren’t allowed to play in the games. It wasn’t fair!” Blaine poured them both another glass of wine. “Some of them were--no, are!--better than the boys and they deserved their own teams and uniforms and all the things that come with it!”

Kurt chuckled at him. “You’re so passionate about it.”

Blaine smirked, “Yeah, I guess I am. I just-- I don’t want any of my students, boys, girls, undecided, to feel somehow lesser than anyone else because of the skin, the organs, and the soul they were given.”

Kurt smiled sadly. “I know exactly how you feel, Blaine.”


	10. Chapter 10

He wasn’t sure when, but at some point after the school closed for the year he began spending almost every day with Blaine. He was right in the middle of his renovations but Blaine didn’t seem to care, showing up every day in a pair of old shorts and t-shirt and helping Kurt paint walls, repair holes, install cabinets and lay tile floors. As they worked, Blaine purposely did his best to expand Kurt’s Italian vocabulary. 

Their days together were easy. They had transitioned from being awkward acquaintances to friends in only a few weeks and Kurt was overjoyed to have a friend his own age. 

Sometimes Bianca would come with him but she was usually at the hotel as summer was their busy season.

The town was invaded by tour groups from all over the world, and the hotel was fully booked every night of the week. Blaine told him that the busy season lasted until early September and that it made up for the rest of the year. 

Montelunato was hot. Beyond hot. Sweltering. If Kurt had thought that New York summers were bad, Italian summers were worse because his old house didn’t have air conditioning and installing it would cost a fortune. He had started to think he was the only person affected by it.

One afternoon, he had to take a break from painting what would be his workroom to go get something to drink. Blaine continued painting the room the pale blue Kurt had selected with the long paint roller so he could reach the high ceilings. Kurt returned, two glasses of water in hand, to the sight of Blaine shirtless and his arms over his head so the roller would reach the top of the wall. He froze watching the muscles of Blaine’s tanned back contract as he worked.

He wasn’t blind. He knew from the moment he saw him that Blaine was probably in very good shape. But nothing could have prepared Kurt for how beautiful Blaine was as he worked. His eyes drifted from his back to his shoulders to his arms and then back to his back. Blaine’s waist was impossibly tiny in comparison to his shoulders. Kurt’s gaze was moving further down his body when Blaine stepped back and turned to dip the roller in the paint tray.

“Um... thirsty?” he asked awkwardly, holding out one of the glasses to Blaine.

“Thanks,” he said, setting the roller in the tray and crossing to him. Kurt thought he might pass out when he saw the faint sheen of sweat on Blaine’s arms and chest. Blaine took the glass and chugged the water, seemingly oblivious to Kurt’s stare. “It’s a hot one today, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Mamma wanted me to tell you that Nonno’s seventy-fifth birthday is next week and we’re having a party for him. They’d both love it if you were there.” Blaine set his glass on a window sill and bent to pick the roller up again. Kurt quickly drank his water and retrieved his own brush and cup of paint to continue edging around the plaster trim work.

“Of course I’ll be there!” He kneeled on the floor, dipping his brush in the paint. “Your family has been so good to me since I moved here, it’s the least I can do.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Blaine get back to the wall he was working on, the muscles in his back contracting with each stroke.

That night, after Blaine had gone home, Kurt unpacked a few boxes of knickknacks and pictures he had been neglecting. He sat in his front room, unwrapping the frames and trinkets he had once treasured. A framed photo last New Years Ever gave him pause. They had gone out with Rachel and Quinn like always. Rachel had done shots all night and Quinn sipped on champagne like the old Hollywood starlet she should have been. They danced closely, holding each other and kissing. He stared at the four of them. Kurt was sandwiched between him and Quinn. They looked so happy. At least, he thought they were happy. Oh, the difference that only six months makes. Rachel and Quinn were going to be moms. Kurt was living in Italy. And him-- well, he had no idea what was going on with him and he honestly did his best not to think of him. He wrapped the frame back up and set it aside. He wasn’t ready to deal with those feelings yet.


	11. Chapter 11

Pietro's birthday was a rousing success. Pietro and Bianca introduced Kurt to Paola and Sofia and he instantly fell in love with them. Paola was a vivacious women in her seventies with a cloud of bright red hair and big green sunglasses that she was never without. She and Pietro were best friend and their mutual respect and love for each other was obvious even to Kurt. Sofia was soft spoken and loving. All the children at the party flocked to her and she told them stories most of the evening. She had sleek salt and pepper hair that she wore in a chin-length bob. The two women balanced each other and Kurt couldn’t help but be reminded of Quinn and Rachel as he watched them together.

Kurt wandered around the garden, carrying a very strong drink Paola had poured for him. Pietro had warned him not drink too much of anything she gave him but he figured one or two wouldn’t hurt. Blaine was standing near the group of children surrounding Sofia as she told another story. He was leaning against a wall of the garden, arms crossed over his chest. He caught Kurt’s eye and smirked at him. Kurt smiled back, intending to join him but Bianca called him over to introduce him to someone.

As the guests finally began to drift away, Kurt, Blaine and Bianca began tidying up. Pietro kept trying to help them but no one let him so he eventually went up to bed. 

"Blaine," Bianca said as kurt stumbled over his own feet, "walk Kurt home. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"I'm fine, Bianca," kurt argued.  "I've only had--" he tried to count how many drinks he had had but after six they all blurred together.  "Okay I don't remember how many but I'm still--oof!"

He had tripped over a chair and fallen to the ground. He heard Bianca sigh and Blaine laugh as he rolled over

"Come on, I could use the exercise and you need a designated walking buddy." Blaine took both his hands in his, pulling him to his feet. "I'll be back in a little while, Mamma. Don't wait up."

Kurt stumbled again when they made it to the street and Blaine wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady. Kurt threw his arm over Blaine's shoulder out of habit. 

"Nonno told you not to let Paola pour your drinks," Blaine chastised him. 

"I know..." Kurt whined. "But they tasted too good and she kept distracting me. Every time I set my glass down she refilled it."

Blaine chuckled at him. Kurt tried to nuzzle his head with Blaine's but was unsuccessful.  They ambled along, arms around each other talking quietly as it was so late. As they passed through the piazza Kurt stopped, sliding his arm from Blaine’s shoulder to his waist and turned to face him. Blaine’s other hand snaked around him, pulling him closer. He looked up at Kurt, his golden eyes shining up at him in the moonlight.

“Blaine, I--” he started to say but he was silenced by Blaine’s lips on his. It took a moment for Kurt to realize what was happening but then he kissed Blaine back. Kurt gripped Blaine’s waist, groaning at the feeling of Blaine’s mouth opening slightly. Blaine pressed Kurt into the wall of the building they were next to, his tongue tracing Kurt’s bottom lip. Kurt broke the kiss, desperate for air, and Blaine’s fingers tugged at the buttons on his collared shirt, exposing more of his neck.

“Blaine, let’s go to my house...” he moaned as Blaine sucked on his clavicle. Blaine stopped, resting the top of his head against Kurt’s chest and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said with a lascivious wink.

When they finally rounded the corner to Kurt's house, he reluctantly pulled out of Blaine's grasp to unlock his front gate but it was hanging wide open and he saw a light shining through the front room window.  He gripped Blaine's arm and stuttered, "Blaine, someone is in my house."

They both crouched in the garden, waiting for any movement from inside the house or for whoever it was to leave. 

After a few minutes Blaine whispered, "Are you sure that you didn't just forget to turn out a light and lock the gate?"

“I’m sure!” Kurt insisted. He hadn’t set foot in that room for almost a week, not since he unpacked the boxes of photographs. “Someone broke into my house!” 

“Kurt,” Blaine hissed. “Let’s just go to the window and see what’s going on. I’m sure you just forgot to turn off the light.” He broke away and crept up to the window.

“Wait, Blaine! No, don’t--”

“Kurt, shut up!” Blaine laughed at him, crouching at the window, peering in. “Everyth-- oh, shit.”

“What? What is it?” Kurt inched closer to Blaine.

“Someone’s in there, Kurt.” Blaine stood up and turned to him, clearing his throat. “Any chance you know a gorgeous blond?”


	12. Chapter 12

Kurt pushed passed Blaine and looked through the glass. There, fast asleep on his couch, was Quinn Fabray. He grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him along after him. He opened the front door and went into the front room. 

Quinn was curled up on the couch in a tight little ball, her blonde hair splayed over a throw pillow. She looked troubled even in her sleep and Kurt instinctively that she didn’t just stop by to see how he was doing. He gently shook her shoulder to wake her up and Blaine sat in a arm chair, clearly waiting for some kind of an explanation.

“Quinn, wake up, sweetie,” Kurt said in a sing-song voice. Quinn’s eyes jerked open suddenly and she sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. She had a small belly pushing against the cotton of her simple green dress. “So, Quinn, what brings you to Italy?”

Her mouth quivered as she tried to smile up at him but in an instant, she burst into tears. Kurt was by her side a moment later, pulling her into a hug. He glanced over to Blaine, who was sitting there wide-eyed and confused.

“Rachel... Kurt, Rachel left me,” she sobbed. Kurt let her crawl into her lap and she buried her face in his neck, her tears soaking his shirt. “She... She said that everything with the baby happened so fast and she wasn’t ready. She--she thought it would take months for me to get pregnant and that by the time it happened, she’d be ready.”

“Oh, Quinnie,” Kurt said, petting her hair. He could kill Rachel. He had always been closer to her than Quinn but he could’ve killed her had she been there. Especially when you considered all the crap Quinn went through in high school. It had taken years for her to get over giving up Beth and her father walking out of her life. Her mother loved her, that had been clear when she welcomed Rachel into her life with open arms, but Quinn had been a Daddy’s Girl . Nothing could replace her dad. When they had announced that they were trying to get pregnant and that Quinn would carry the baby, he had been a bit skeptical of whether that was the best decision. “When did this happen?”

She sniffled, her breath hitching. “Last week. She came home from rehearsal and asked me to leave.”

He jerked back to look at her. “She asked you to leave?” Quinn’s nodded, not even looking at Kurt. “She asked her pregnant girlfriend to leave?”

He really was going to kill her.

“I’m sorry for not calling before showing up here but I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t go home to Ohio and I don’t have any other friends in New York.” 

“What about--”

“Kurt, I never considered him my friend.” She said it flatly, as if he should have known. He kissed the top of her head, trying not to smile. This was not the time to smile. “Especially after what he did to you.”

They both heard Blaine clear his throat. Kurt looked over and saw Blaine watching them.

“Um... Quinn, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is one of-- well, no-- this is my best friend, Quinn Fabray.” Quinn stood up, smoothing her dress of its wrinkles before offering her hand to Blaine.

“Hi, um, nice to meet you, Blaine.” Blaine stood up, ignoring her hand, and kissed both of her cheeks.

“Lovely to meet you, too, Quinn.” Blaine smiled warmly at her. “Welcome to Montelunato. I’m sure you must be tired so I’ll get out of your hair.”

Kurt rose from his seat. “Blaine, I--”

“Kurt, it’s okay. You need to take care of your friend tonight. I’m sure there’ll be other... opportunities, shall we say? If you are willing?” He looked nervously at Kurt, clearly afraid of what his response would be.

Kurt crossed to him, grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into another kiss. Unlike their first, which had been impulsive and passionate, this one was tender and sweet. “Definitely,” he whispered. “Will you be coming over tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will.” He tugged Kurt by the neck into another kiss. “I’ll be over first thing, okay?”

“Okay.” They kissed one more time before Blaine reluctantly pulled away and headed for the door to go home.


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt insisted on Quinn sleeping in his bed with him that night. She fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. It took Kurt a while longer. He kept wondering what would have happened if Quinn hadn’t shown up with her trusty nail file and broken into his house. Would he have had sex with Blaine?

He knew the answer. Yes, he would have. And he wouldn’t have regretted it. But he wasn’t sure if that was what was right for them. If there was a them.

He woke up early and made a big breakfast for Quinn. As he was frying bacon, her favorite, he heard a soft rapping on the door to the back garden. He smiled when he saw Blaine’s face grinning at him through the glass.

“Morning, Blaine,” he said as he unlocked the door.

“Good morning to you, Kurt.” He tilted his head up to Kurt as he stepped into kitchen, eagerly awaiting a kiss. Kurt obliged him, holding his face in his hands and giving him a light, lingering kiss. “Is Quinn still asleep?”

“Yes, she had a long day yesterday. Long week, actually.” Kurt returned to the stove and picked up a pair of tongs to turn the bacon.

“Did she tell you anything else about what happened?” Blaine hopped onto the counter near the stove, stealing an already cooked piece and eating it.

“Not really. Rachel gave her only an hour to pack before she wanted her out. She stayed in a hotel before deciding to come here. That’s about it.” The tea kettle whistled and Kurt poured the water into three mugs before retrieving the tin of teabags. “What kind of tea do you want?”

“Earl Grey, if you have it,” Blaine said, stealing another piece of bacon.

Kurt plopped an Earl Grey teabag into one of the mugs before selecting green tea for himself and Quinn. Setting the tea aside to steep, he leaned against the counter facing Blaine. “I’m sorry, I’m still processing last night.”

“What part?” Blaine asked shyly. 

Kurt sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Honestly, everything. Quinn, Rachel, you. Kissing you. What could have happened if Quinn hadn’t been here.”

Blaine chewed on his bottom lip. “What do you think would have happened?”

Kurt stood in front of him, between his knees. “I think we would have kissed more. Then I would have asked you to come upstairs. I think you would have said yes,” he said, placing a kiss on Blaine’s throat. Blaine’s arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close.

“Mmm... I would have,” Blaine said as Kurt kissed a line up his neck to his jaw.

“If you burn my bacon, you will feel my wrath, Kurt.”

Quinn stood in the doorway to the kitchen in sweats and a big sweater despite how hot it was. Blaine’s head dropped as he chuckled. Kurt plopped a kiss on top of Blaine head before returning his focus to the bacon.

“Yes, Queen Fabray.”

They ate their breakfast together and got Quinn settled in what would have been a guest room. That afternoon, while Quinn was napping, Kurt and Blaine found themselves kissing on his workroom floor. They had been assembling a large table for cutting fabric but making out proved to be much more interesting. 

Blaine was straddling his waist, his hands groping at Kurt’s torso under his shirt. He nipped at the skin under Blaine’s chin before lightly sucking on his Adam’s Apple. Blaine groaned, rolling his hips against Kurt’s. Kurt pressed his pelvis up to meet Blaine’s, his fingers tangled in his loose, sweaty curls. As much as he was enjoying this, the wooden floor was not very comfortable. 

“Blaine,” Kurt panted against his neck. “I have a bed that would be much more suited for this than the floor.”

Blaine sat up, gazing down at Kurt through his thick lashes and licked his lips. “That sounds better. And it would be easier on my knees.” He stood up, pulling Kurt with him. They tiptoed down the hall, past Quinn’s room and up the stairs to the third floor where Kurt had set up his bedroom. 

They both quickly shed their shirts and Blaine pushed Kurt onto the mattress. He straddled him again, pulling Kurt into another kiss. Kurt’s tongue ran along Blaine’s bottom lip before gently biting it. He rocked his hips slowly against Blaine’s ass, sliding his hands under the waistband of his shorts. 

“Blaine, are you not wearing any underwear?” Kurt whispered in his ear. Blaine smirked and nodded. Kurt groaned, “Is that a normal thing for you?”

Blaine shrugged, sucking on the skin below Kurt’s ear. “I only wear underwear when I’m working.”

Kurt trailed his fingertips down Blaine’s chest, past his navel to the button fly of his shorts. He flicked the top one out of it’s hole, circling his finger lightly. Blaine’s mouth dragged down Kurt’s neck to his clavicle. Kurt fumbled with the rest of the buttons on Blaine’s shorts and drew his cock into his hands. Blaine moaned into his shoulder, nipping at his skin.

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine breathed. He returned to Kurt’s mouth for another kiss, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth. Kurt’s back arched, groin pressing up into Blaine’s. Blaine sat up, pulling Kurt’s hands away from his cock, braced his hands on Kurt’s abdomen and circled his hips. Kurt hands flew back to his hips, gripping them tightly. Blaine’s hips stilled and he slid down Kurt’s legs, tugging the zipper of his work pants down.


	14. Chapter 14

Blaine's hands caressed down Kurt's torso, skimming over his nipples.  Kurt's fingers entwined themselves through Blaine's dark curls as the other man dragged his tongue around his belly button. Blaine shifted, kicked his shorts off and pushed Kurt's legs apart, settling between his thighs.  His ran a single finger under the edge of Kurt's boxer briefs, tongue lapping at the skin below his navel.  Kurt shuddered, his cock hardening at the feel of Blaine's mouth so close yet so far from where he wanted it to be.  He instinctively ground his hips against Blaine's chest, desperate for more friction. 

Blaine chuckled, "Eager one, aren't you?"

Kurt groaned, exasperated with the gorgeous man currently massaging his cock through his underwear.  "I've been thinking about this since the first time I saw you, so yes, I am eager.”

Blaine's hand paused for a moment. "Since we met in my kitchen?"

"No," Kurt replied. Blaine's hand snaked under waistband as he spoke. "It was the day before we actually met. Remember that awful tour I was on?" Blaine nodded, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's length. "We were in the piazza when the school let out. I was watching the people and the kids and then I saw you. You were so--" his breath hitched, and his hips thrust against Blaine's fist.  "--at ease and happy looking.  I hadn't been happy in so long, Blaine. You were intriguing to watch and I was jealous of how happy you were. I was jealous of how content you looked. That's why I left the tour. I needed to spend time in a place that made such a beautiful, intriguing man so happy and at peace." 

Blaine's hands left his briefs to slip them off his legs.  "Keep talking, Kurt, please."  Kurt whined helplessly as Blaine began to kiss his hip bones and his hand returned to his cock.

“I-- Christ, that feels good...” he moaned, pushing his hip to Blaine’s mouth. “And I went back to the piazza and ate at the cafe. I needed a place to stay and the waiter recommended your family’s hotel. And well, here we are.”

Blaine pulled away from from his hip. “Here we are.” He lowered his mouth onto Kurt’s cock, sucking on the tip, his hand still working the shaft. Kurt gasped at the sensation of Blaine’s warm, wet mouth around him. He resisted the urge to thrust up into Blaine’s mouth, but he tugged lightly at his hair as his fingers raked across his scalp. Blaine’s tongue swirled around the head of Kurt’s cock, flicking over the slit, tasting his pre-cum. 

“Blaine, fuck--” he breathed as Blaine took him deeper into his mouth. Blaine pressed a finger to his perineum, all but forcing him to arch his hips off the bed. He moaned around Kurt’s cock, sending vibrations through his body. “God, that feels so good!”

Blaine sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks and sliding up and down. Kurt threw his head back, a wanton moan escaping his lips. Blaine released him and crawled back up Kurt’s body, claiming his mouth is a fierce kiss. Kurt had honestly never been a big fan of kissing. But kissing Blaine was something else entirely. Blaine was dominant and almost demanding, gripping his head desperately, his tongue skirting along his lips, begging for admittance. Kurt broke away only for air and Blaine seized to the opportunity to suck in his bottom lip into his mouth.

Kurt pulled Blaine’s shorts further down his hips and gripped his ass tightly. Blaine slid to his side for a moment to kick his shorts off, reluctantly releasing his mouth and Kurt yanked open his nightstand to retrieve lube from a drawer. He smiled as he felt Blaine’s hands on his hips, needing him closer. Kurt turned back to him, pulling him into another kiss. With his side pressed to Blaine’s chest and his legs curled over his thighs, Blaine was practically cradling him in his arms. The only difference was that he had Kurt’s cock in his hand and his tongue in his mouth. Blaine’s cock was grinding along his thighs but Kurt needed more. He pushed Blaine onto his back and straddled one of his legs. He applied lube to the palm on his hand and gripped both of their cocks.

“Hell, Kurt... Ungh... fottermi, che si sente bene...” Blaine muttered into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt’s Italian was still pretty practically nonexistent but he was able to catch the gist of his words. And because Blaine had made it a point to teach him the curse words first. His hips rutted against Blaine’s, his hand pumping their cocks languidly.

Blaine shifted, spreading his legs wide to accommodate Kurt, and wrapped one around his waist, holding him closer.  Kurt buried his face in Blaine's neck, lapping at his pulse point.  His hand continued to massage both of their cocks as one of Blaine’s hands joined his. He nipped at the sensitive flesh under Blaine’s ear, groaning at the feel of Blaine’s warm hand beside his and his heel digging into his ass cheek.

“Blaine--God... You’re so fucking hot, Blaine--fuck!” Kurt attacked Blaine’s mouth with his own, kissing him forcefully. Blaine’s free hand gripped Kurt’s head, opening his mouth and letting Kurt’s tongue swirl around his own. 

His hips continued to rut against Blaine’s, their hard cocks slipping along each other. Kurt wanted more but the voice in his head was screaming that he was already moving too fast. He knew that he should stop this, that they needed to have a mature conversation about what they were. But Blaine was so sexy and adorable beneath him, moaning into his mouth, his cock stiff and smooth against his. They could talk later, Kurt told himself as he felt his balls tighten. He quickened his thrusts, letting both and Blaine’s cocks go so he could steady himself. Blaine pressed his hips up and continued to pump their cocks.

“Fuck--Blaine, I’m going to--” He started to pull away, but Blaine swung his other leg around Kurt’s waist, holding him tightly. Blaine groaned something in Italian that Kurt wouldn’t have been able to translate if his orgasm hadn’t been imminent. Something about the tone of Blaine’s word spurred something in Kurt and with a loud moan, he came between their two bodies. Blaine followed soon after, his lips attached to Kurt’s jaw as he struggled to catch his breath.

Kurt collapsed to Blaine’s side and stared at the gorgeous man beside him. Blaine’s stomach was covered with both of their cum and his whole body was glistening with sweat. He rolled onto his side, a small smile on his lips and blinking sleepily at Kurt.

“Well, um... That was--” Blaine started but Kurt silenced him with another kiss.

“Incredible.”


	15. Chapter 15

The afternoon light shone through the open window, casting a warm glow within the room. Kurt and Blaine's sated bodies glistened in the light. Blaine had dozed off but Kurt stared up at the ceiling, wide awake.  Their past few weeks had been secretive but easy. Quinn gave them a wide berth and developed the habit of going to the hotel to help Bianca and Pietro after her afternoon nap.

Kurt wasn't a religious man but sex had always been something sacred. Before Blaine he had only been with his ex and they had been together almost a year before they even attempted anything below the waistline. It had taken a longtime for them to learn each others quirks and kinks but it hadn't mattered because they were in love. Sex for them had been pleasant but rarely passionate. Kurt recalled a time he surprised him in the shower and was told to get out because showering was his 'me time'.  But Kurt had loved him so he didn't do it again even though shower sex was something he was more than eager to try. 

Blaine sighed in his sleep and rolled onto his side, curling his body around Kurt. A smile formed on Kurt's lips as he looked down at the other man.  Blaine's brow was furrowed and he sighed again. Kurt looped an arm over his shoulder, lazily running his fingertips over Blaine's upper arm. 

His tanned skin was smooth with curly hair decorating his chest and just below his navel, forming a delicious trail. He had a dusting of freckles on his shoulders and a faint scar, about five inches long, on his collarbone. Kurt gently traced his finger along it a few times before Blaine jolted awake.  He scrambled out of Kurt's arms and off the bed with a panicked look on his face. 

"Blaine, it's okay, it's just me," he said cautiously. Blaine's face relaxed but he still looked upset.  Kurt reached out to him, moving slowly to the edge of the bed. "Blaine, it's okay."

Blaine inched his way towards him, his chest still heaving. He fell to his knees in front of Kurt and flung his arms around his waist.  Kurt wound his arms around his shoulders, bewildered at the man he was holding. 

"I'm sorry," Blaine muttered, his lips pressed to Kurt's skin.  "It's... uh... it's a reflex."

"It's fine, Blaine," he whispered.  They held each other in silence but Kurt's thoughts were screaming in his head. 

The Blaine before him was not the sexy, confident man he had been sharing his bed with for the past two months.  Kurt knew, of course, what Blaine's father had done to him but he never mentioned it as it was Bianca that had told him.  He knew that it had never been Bianca's place to reveal such personal information about her son to Kurt. He was forced to operate as if he knew nothing and it was getting harder and harder to pretend. 

Blaine sniffled into his shoulder, his breath gradually becoming even again.  "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"It's fine, Blaine. It was my fault; I shouldn't have startled you."  Blaine loosened his grip on Kurt and sat back on his heels to look at him. 

"I just feel so... stupid."  He stared down at the floor, hands falling to his lap. 

He cupped Blaine's chin in his hand, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Kurt swallowed back his own tears. This was about Blaine, not him. 

"You're not stupid.  Far from it."  He kissed Blaine's tear-stained cheeks between words.  "You are intelligent and kind.  Your students adore you. You are loved by you mother, grandfather, and brother.  Nothing else matters."

Blaine gazed up at him.  "I guess I should explain."

"Only if you want to."  

"I shouldn't still feel like this. It was years ago."  Blaine leaned against Kurt's hand on his cheek. 

Kurt gave him a sad smile.  "I know what you mean."  He shifted to the floor, sitting in front of Blaine, and raised his right arm over his head.  He pointed to a long thin white line along his rib cage.  "See that?"

Blaine nodded and smirked a little. It was one of his favorite places he had found in his exploration of Kurt’s body.  "I'm very familiar with it, yes."  

Kurt shivered, remembering the sensation of Blaine's tongue on his skin.  "Yes, well, I've had this for twelve years now.  I didn't always react to it being touched the way I do now.  It took a long time."

Blaine slowly raised a finger to Kurt's scar.  "How'd it happen?"

Kurt paused, not sure how to explain.   "I was bullied a lot in school.  Some guys beat me up and cracked a few of my ribs but I also had a collapsed lung.  It's a surgical scar."

"What happened to the guys?" Blaine asked, still running his fingertip along Kurt's scar. 

A big part of Kurt wanted to lie but he had to be honest with him. He softly said, "Nothing."

Blaine swallowed.  "Same as mine." 

"It sucks, doesn't it?"

Nodding, Blaine asked, "How'd you get over it?"

Kurt watched the adorable man in front of him study the scar that had turned out to be an omen of sorts.  "It was easy.  I hated the person that did it to me."

"You're lucky."  Kurt could barely hear Blaine's voice but he was certain of what he had said.  "It's harder when it was someone that's supposed to-- never mind."

"We don't have to talk about it. Not until you're ready.” Kurt opened his arms to him and Blaine curled up against his chest, willing his heartbeat to calm. They sat in silence on the floor, just holding each other.

“Thank you.”


End file.
